


The Strongest Walls Are In Your Mind

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Gen, Gwaine gets on Arthur's nerves, Magic Reveal, Merlin is an idiot, So does everyone else that matters, but not as much as Merlin does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: “The only prisoner to ever actually stay in Camelot’s dungeon is the only one who was never locked in. It would be you, wouldn’t it, Merlin?” Arthur’s not actually an idiot… but Merlin just might be. (Or the one in which Arthur has a plan but, as always, Merlin seems to be doing his best to totally ruin it.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-slash if you squint, I guess.

Arthur wasn’t stupid.

And despite what he often said, he didn’t think Merlin was either.

However, after this little episode (if it could be labelled as _little_ ) Arthur was beginning to think he’d have to revaluate that statement. First reason being the fact that Merlin thought it would be a good idea to use his magic right in front of a dozen knights, just because a few bandits had attacked them in the forest.

_Honestly._

They could have taken them easily, but no, Merlin just _had_ to stop that arrow in mid air. It wasn’t even going to kill anyone, just the horse, and Sir Kay could easily have survived the fall - probably without any broken bones, even. By the gods did Merlin have no sense of self-preservation? And he’d been doing so well up until now, what with all the rolling around on the floor and hiding in bushes and honestly appearing completely useless. No one was ever going to suspect him if they thought he was a complete idiotic coward, and Arthur made damn sure that was the case.

But there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

“Sorcerer!” shouted Sir Elwin, pointing a finger to where Merlin was standing, hand still outstretched.

“Leave him for now,” Arthur growled, trying to get a hold on the situation. Perhaps if he ‘accidentally’ hit Elwin over the head it could be passed off as a hallucination later?

“Leave him?” gasped Elwin. “But Sire—!”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Elwin, we are still being attacked! Deal with the bandits first, and then we’ll deal with your accusation, alright?”

Elwin looked like he didn’t agree, but went back into the fray anyway. Merlin, meanwhile, was redirecting another bandit’s arrows. Why couldn’t he have done that with the other one? Why did he have to stop it entirely?

He hadn’t even noticed he’d been spotted.

The fight was over soon after that, and Arthur gave his knights a quick once over to make sure they weren’t injured. His plan was to pretend like nothing had happened – it had worked in the past after someone got too curious over the many well timed falling branches or the flying plates in the many bar fights they managed to get into. But then—

“Sire, what are you going to do about Merlin?” asked Elwin, walking towards him.

“What about Merlin?” asked Arthur, his heart in his throat.

“Well, he’s a sorcerer.”

“Merlin, a sorcerer?” he snorted, attempting to play it off like he had so many times before. “Right. And I’m a Dragon Lord.”

“I saw it too, Sire,” piped up Sir Gregory. “He stopped an arrow in mid air. He held his hand up and his eyes glowed and everything.”

So, it would seem this was it. Arthur sighed and turned to Merlin who was staring at him with a look of utmost horror.

“Well then, Merlin,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I guess you’d best come back to Camelot with us. Are you going to resist?”

Merlin gave his head a small, terrified shake.

“Alright. Everyone, get back on your horses. On account of us apprehending a sorcerer I declare this patrol over. We’re heading back to the castle immediately.”

Most of the knights scurried to obey, but there were a few who looked incredibly wary.

“Shouldn’t we… restrain him?” asked Sir Kay, sounding incredibly unsure. And wasn’t that ironic? Kay was the one Merlin had outed himself to save.

“With what?” asked Arthur. “If he’s powerful enough to be a threat, I’m sure some rope won’t stop him. If he’s not powerful enough to be a threat then there really isn’t any need, is there? Do you really think a single sorcerer incapable of cutting a few ropes could take us all?”

The knights appeared to have no idea what to do with that question, but after a couple of seconds of shooting each other questioning and dumbfounded looks they all opted to mount their horses, ready to return to Camelot.

Arthur smirked. Being the King really did make things easier sometimes.

Of course, it would have been _better_ if his ‘Knights of the Round Table’ (as the minstrels had started to call them) had been in the group. They’d be both too smart and too used to him to be taken in by his ruse, but on the other hand they all knew about Merlin anyway so he would have had more people on his side in the matter.

As it were, all the knights were shooting Merlin terrified glances as they rode towards home. Merlin looked terrified himself, but an edge of confusion was working its way onto his face and Arthur had to stop himself from snorting in amusement.

Honestly, Merlin acted like his magic was a secret or something.

Well, a secret from him, anyway. With the way he’d been acting, it seemed like the only person he cared about keeping his magic from was Arthur.

Idiot.

They hadn’t been far from Camelot when the incident occurred, and they were back in the city by mid-afternoon. One of the knights announced at the gate that they had captured a sorcerer, and as soon as the group were in the courtyard and had dismounted their horses Arthur stepped up behind Merlin and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You should let us take him to the dungeons, Sire,” said Sir Gregory. “You don’t know what he’ll try to do.”

“Actually, I think I’ll wait here,” Arthur replied. When the knight nodded and moved forward, hand on his sword, Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s shoulder and gave the man a dangerous look. “Merlin will be waiting here with me.”

“But, Sire—“

“Do you presume to tell me what to do?”

Sir Gregory took a step back, looking stricken. Arthur’s compassion as King was well known, but the habits left from Uther’s reign remained. “No, Sire.”

“Good. Then you shall leave me here with Merlin and go and tell Sir Gwaine and Sir Leon to come here immediately. Take Kay with you. There will be no need to return with them, do you understand?”

Gregory and Kay nodded. The other knights looked wary, but Arthur gave them a hard look, and they quickly left as well, probably running either to their chambers to wash off the grime of travel, or to brag of their ‘capture’ in the tavern.

Merlin, meanwhile, was trembling, and refusing to look up from the ground.

“You’re such an idiot, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur huffed. Merlin’s eyes flickered to him for a moment in confusion before looking back to the ground, his shoulders even tenser than before.

Arthur sighed, unsure of what else he could say, and they spent the rest of the wait in silence.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long; only a few minutes had passed before Gwaine and Leon came hurrying out of the castle.

“We heard you’ve caught a sorcerer,” said Leon, tilting his head in a silent question.

Gwaine was not nearly so subtle. “So they finally caught on, huh? About time.”

“This isn’t funny, Gwaine,” Arthur hissed, causing Merlin to flinch. “He needs to go to the _dungeons._ ”

“Of course, Sire.” Leon shot Gwaine a glare, and took Merlin gently by the arm.

“I bloody well knew you were being too obvious,” Gwaine growled, taking Merlin’s other side. The warlock looked up once more in confusion, but Gwaine was no longer watching him. Instead, he spoke to Arthur. “Like we talked about?”

Arthur nodded firmly. “Exactly.”

He was reluctant to let them take his servant away, but he knew what had to be done. They’d talked about what they would need to do for years, refining their plans, altering them as new information came to light or as different people in the castle came and went. After all their planning they believed their system would be watertight – there was very little that even Merlin could do to mess it up.

Gwaine and Leon knew what to do, and with a soft prod at Merlin’s back the three were on their way, and Arthur ripped his gaze away from them so that he could fulfil his part.

He found Gwen easily - she had already heard the rumours from the other maids and was on her way down to Gaius without needing to be told. They exchanged a nod, and then hurried in their opposite directions.

Arthur’s chambers felt empty, despite the lingering warmth from the fire Merlin had smothered before they had left that morning. With a sigh, he tried to ignore the emptiness and moved toward his desk.

He had an execution order to draft.

=o=

The turnout for the trial was immense. Almost everyone knew Merlin, and almost everyone liked him. But at the same time, the laws and experiences brought forth by Uther’s purge left a lingering shiver of fear amongst the citizens of Camelot. Despite those who could remember what it was like when magic flowed freely and gave goodness to those who asked, Arthur did not think they were ready to see a sorcerer walking next to their King.

Arthur sat in his throne, looking down over the amassed crowd. The Great Hall was packed with lords, ladies, knights, and servants. He knew that down in the courtyard there were hundreds of peasants, waiting to hear the outcome. And despite having overseen many such court sessions and even trials in his short span as King, Arthur couldn’t help but feel nervous.

However, that nervousness melted away when Gwaine and Leon led Merlin into the hall, twin expressions of worried confusion upon their faces.

Arthur nearly growled in frustration. It would appear they had totally underestimated Merlin’s skill in ruining well thought out plans.

The idiot himself was standing tall, looking much more confident than Arthur thought he had any right to be. His expression was defiant, and despite the look of frustration etching Gaius’ face to mirror Arthur’s own, the old man looked proud of his boy’s composure.

But that didn’t stop Arthur from wanting to whack Merlin over the head with a gauntlet.

_Time for Plan B._

“Merlin,” Arthur began. “You have been accused of practising magic and sorcery. How do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

Merlin’s voice was strong and sure, and it echoed through the room easily, followed by a rippling gasp.

 _Guilty._ Arthur ground his teeth in annoyance. Did the idiot not even _listen_ to what Arthur was saying, or was he just purposefully being idiotic? Right then. He’d just have to go with the _original plan_ and hope he could buy enough time for it to _actually work_.

Scrambling to get his thoughts into line, Arthur grasped for something else to move things in his direction.

“Do you have anything to say in your defence?”

Merlin did not even hesitate. “I didn’t have a choice,” he stated, his voice just as clear as before.

“You didn’t chose to be magic?” Arthur asked, a hint of hope in his tone. Finally, Merlin was cooperating— _this_ he could use.

“I was born with it.”

There was something in Merlin’s voice when he spoke those words, something that suggested he’d said them before– many times before. His eyes held defiant spark that Arthur was so used to seeing, a spark that was so _Merlin_ he just had to hide his smile. Yes, they still had a chance, Arthur was seeing that. Merlin would end up following the plan, even if he didn’t know he was doing so. Because Merlin was still fighting.

At Arthur’s gesture, Merlin continued to speak. “I was born with the ability to move things with my mind. I could make plates or chairs fly around the room with only a thought, and I could fell a tree with just a small push. I couldn’t control it, not entirely, but as I’ve grown I’ve mastered it. But I can’t simply stop using it— it’s a part of me. You wouldn’t condemn a man for using the arms and hands he was born with to plough a field or swing a sword. Why would you condemn me?”

“Because sorcery is outlawed,” Arthur said firmly. “However you came by the power, you’ve used it.”

“Only to serve you,” Merlin insisted, and here his voice broke for the first time. “Only for you, Arthur, I— I’ve told you before. I’ll serve you until the day I die, and whether that is forty years from now in my bed or tomorrow on a pyre, I will serve you.”

“We are not here to discuss intention,” Arthur said, and he could hear the crowd mutter. They’d heard the emotion in Merlin’s declaration just as surely as he had, and he knew that none of the people here would simply be able to ignore it. Merlin had a way of changing people, of making them see something they couldn’t before…

“I would never harm you, I swear on it, Arthur,” Merlin said earnestly.

“Yes, and I believe that.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, a flicker of hope dancing across his face. Arthur almost felt bad for crushing it. He pulled a roll of parchment from his coat and flourished it as he spoke.

“However, the law is clear. All _sorcerers_ must be executed.”

Merlin didn’t notice the inflection, and his face crumpled. Arthur watched with a heavy heart as Merlin’s eyes followed the document that he had drafted the night before – the order for an execution.

“Arthur—“ Merlin gasped, all hope forgotten as he glanced about wildly.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was hard. “I hereby state that any sorcerer held in Camelot’s dungeon must, under the current law of the land, meet their death.”

“Please—“

“Sir Gwaine, Sir Leon,” Arthur said, tearing his eyes from his servant once more. “Take the accused back down to his cell. I believe you already know what to do.”

The two knights nodded solemnly. Merlin cast desperate looks at his friends, pleading for help. But they did their best to ignore him and grasped him gently above the elbows, one on either side, and led him from the room.

Arthur steeled himself against the final glimpse of Merlin’s pleading face, and placed the document back into his coat, glad that no one had asked to examine it.

“The accused will await his punishment,” Arthur announced to the room. “Court dismissed.”

Those gathered in the room slowly began to disperse, all muttering amongst themselves in shock. Those that were in the know – Knights of the Round Table, Gaius, Gwen – looked anxious at the rumples in their plan, but hopeful. The knights who had been on the fateful patrol the day before looked a mix of satisfied and askance - none had expected their King to condemn his servant – his friend – to death, but neither had they expected him to go against the laws of his kingdom.

None of them had known what to expect, and yet, they couldn’t help but be hopeful.

But Arthur knew that none of them were surprised.

He waited until the room was clear before allowing himself a deep sigh. Arthur ran his hands over his face, glad that the hardest part was over with.

Now, he just had to wait.

It was all down to Merlin.

=o=

Three days.

 _Three days_.

It had been three days since the trial and Merlin was _still_ in that bloody cell.

It was enough to give Arthur a piercing migraine along with the constant, sickening worry sitting in his gut. He had been increasingly snappy with the servants and his advisors and hard on his knights during training, and while the majority blamed his mood on the betrayal of his servant and the trials of dealing with George. Thankfully, however, his mood had stopped people from asking when the execution would be carried out.

He still hadn’t made that announcement, nor had he written the date on his carefully worded execution order. Because while the order itself had been crafted for the best possible outcome, it still wouldn’t be enough to guarantee Merlin’s safety. For that, Arthur needed his servant out of public eye first.

But Merlin, as per usual, was not cooperating.

Arthur hadn’t been down to the dungeons himself, knowing that for the plan to work he couldn’t risk being seen. But he’d spoken to Gwen, who brought down his food personally, and to Gaius, who frequently checked in to make sure Merlin was actually _eating_ the food that Gwen brought.

Apparently he was.

So Merlin was keeping up his strength. He had visitors, who reported that despite the circumstances Merlin continued to keep up a brave face— which, in the ever extending time between the trial and the execution, was beginning to transform into a little hope.

Gwaine had reported that Merlin could see the courtyard from the barred window in his cell, and had even commented on the lack of a pyre being constructed in the courtyard.

Apparently, this was only encouraging the hopeful thoughts.

Gwaine’s report had Arthur gnashing his teeth together in a way that had the brave knight taking a step back, and within hours men were building one of the largest pyres yet in the middle of the courtyard on the King’s orders.

The fire would never be set, but Merlin didn’t need to know that.

Whatever needed to be done to take away any hope Merlin had of avoiding execution, Arthur would do it.

He felt awful, planning things such as this. But Merlin needed to live, and for that Arthur couldn’t have him thinking that he could survive the entire thing while sitting on his arse doing nothing. Merlin had to pull his weight as well.

Gaius smirked at Arthur the next time he saw him, that trademark glint flickering in his eyes. Arthur rolled his eyes and continued growling at the incompetent Lord in his court.

Unfortunately, Merlin still didn’t take the hint.

Arthur was unsure of what else to do. He was tempted to tell Gwen to stop taking Merlin his food, but was afraid that Merlin would then simply lay in his cell and waste away.

He told Gwaine to take drastic measures – but apparently, Merlin had called after his friend to remind him to close the door, not wanting to be accused of using further magic in an attempt to escape.

After that one, Arthur had to restrain himself from walking to the hard, stone wall next to his window and smashing his head against it.

It was a close thing.

Next, Arthur sent Gaius himself, prepared with a speech brimming with disappointment and raised eyebrows.

Merlin, apparently, actually threw some straw at the old man.

Gwen made the most leeway. She went in with tears streaming down her face and reportedly was able to make Merlin cry as well (which, in Arthur’s opinion, was not actually a very difficult thing to do) but still the servant remained unmoved. He wouldn’t use magic to escape, he said. He didn’t want to further incriminate himself or – and Gwen quoted – _make things more difficult for Arthur._

After that, Arthur had to restrain himself from forgoing the wall entirely and simply launching his body from the window.

Did he not understand the lengths that Arthur had gone to make sure this execution wouldn’t happen?

Did he have some kind of fetish for ruining well laid out plans?

It would seem there was a lesson to be learned in all this. Just because a plan was fool proof did not make it _Merlin_ proof.

“I think we’re just going to have to move forward,” Arthur groaned, rubbing his aching temples as he addressed those assembled in Gaius’ chambers. “The lords are starting to get suspicious. They haven’t said anything yet, but…”

“I’ve heard some of the chatting when I brought one of their wives a bath,” said Gwen. “They think you’ve gone soft.” Her cheeks flamed red as she realised what she had said. “I mean, _I_ don’t think that, Sire, but—“

“It’s alright,” he replied, waving a hand in her general direction. “Gaius? What do you think?”

“I think that if Merlin were going to make a move, he would have done so by now,” the physician grumbled. “As I’m sure you’ve all realised, he is as equally prone to acting without thinking as he is stubborn. It’s been long enough now that he won’t change his mind.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know he’s not actually under guard,” Elyan wondered.

“Unlikely,” Gwaine snorted. “I left the bloody door open for him, didn’t I? How much more of a hint does he need? No, he’s set on either dying for his best friend or receiving a pardon, and I don’t think any of us could talk him into anything different.”

It was a mark of the severity of the situation that Arthur did not protest Gwaine’s wording.

“If we wait any longer, it may be too late,” Leon warned, bringing the conversation back around.

“He’s right.” Gaius fixed Arthur with his piercing stare. “Any longer, and people will wonder why. The time so far has been acceptable – while unusual for a sorcerer, many non-magic criminals are held for a similar period before their execution. However, any longer and people _will_ be worried that you’ve gone soft– or worse, that you’re showing favouritism. Many disagree with the law as you know, but not following it for the sake of your friend will only make it worse.”

“He’s my servant,” Arthur responded this time as if on reflex, but his tone was not as defiant as it once might have been.

“They’re right,” Gwaine agreed. “You need to announce something today, Princess.”

“You’ve already drafted the order and we’ve all checked over it,” Gwen agreed. “Even Geoffrey agreed—“

“You showed it to Geoffrey?” Arthur asked, shocked. “I told you all to keep it a secret!”

“I promised to keep Merlin out of his library for three months after his release,” Gaius said with a smirk. “And yes, he agreed that the execution order is clear, and _binding_. Even with Merlin still in his cell, it will work.”

“I would just prefer it if he got himself out of harms way,” Arthur groaned. “Why can’t he just—“

“He’s spent his entire time in Camelot using his magic to protect you,” Gaius interjected. “Now that you know—“

“Don’t you think I already know all that? I know what he’s done, and while I’m sure I don’t know the full extent of what he has sacrificed I know that it has all been for Camelot— for me. None of you could possibly understand how that feels, to know that I have Merlin’s complete and utter loyalty to the extent that not only would he willingly walk into burning flames to save me, but merely to _prove himself to me_ , and to know that he would go even further than that and sacrifice _anything_ —“ Arthur found himself choked, and Gaius spoke up again.

“He won’t burn.”

Arthur frowned. “What?”

“He won’t. You think that being willing to walk into the flames is loyalty? It’s not. Merlin will never burn while you still live, because he will not leave you without his help. He might allow it to look like he burned, but his magic will protect him. And despite the pain he would suffer after being betrayed by you, he would continue to live in your shadow - perhaps in disguise, perhaps hidden entirely - making sure that you came to no harm. And _that_ , Arthur, is loyalty. It’s brave to die, yes, but easy. It takes a special brand of courage to continue to live.”

Arthur pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He knew all of this, of course, how could he not? But the burden it placed on him was immense. How could he deserve such loyalty? How could Merlin think him worthy?

Of course, Merlin _was_ an idiot. Perhaps this proved it, after all. But still, Arthur found it difficult to belittle all that Merlin had done by seemingly dismissing his loyalty in such a way, despite the fact that it was only in the privacy of his own mind. Merlin deserved better.

“And that is why we must fight so hard to save him,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, eyes blazing. “It doesn’t matter that he _could_ save himself. It doesn’t matter that the bloody idiot _won’t_ until the very last second. None of it matters, except for the that fact that he deserves every inch of support we can show him, because he’s shown us more than could ever be measured.” He cast his gaze across the occupants of the surgery, and allowed the corners of his mouth to tug up at the sides when he saw his determination echoed back. “We’re going to save Merlin,” he stated firmly.

“Whether he wants us to or not, eh lads?” grinned Gwaine.

Arthur threw a plate at him.

It didn’t help the situation, but watching Gwaine curse at the inevitable black eye that would soil his pretty face did wonders for Arthur’s mood.

=o=

Despite the fact that Arthur had been groomed from birth for the duties of a King, there were some things that he thought he would never get used to.

Public speaking was not one of them.

He had always loved speaking to his people. He loved being able to see them, to actually speak to those he was ruling. It wasn’t the same as when he rode out to different villages or took a stroll down into the lower town, but these were all things that he had not been permitted to do as a child - and even as a young man before his father died, Uther would not allow him away from the castle without some kind of escort. Arthur had always hated it, and had always tried to ensure that his ‘escorts’ were friends rather than dressed-up guards who couldn’t take him four-to-one, but despite his efforts it was never the same as it was for him now. And never had it felt as good as being able to speak to the people.

Executions, however, were different.

Thankfully, he’d never had to preside over many. There were few murders in Camelot, and those who stole were either given time in the stocks, in labour for the city, or in the dungeon, depending on the severity of the crime. Sorcerers, while seemingly plentiful, always merited the presence of the King at their executions and therefore Arthur was never required to speak.

Now, however, it was his responsibility.

There had been other sorcerers captured during his time as King, of course, but they all seemed to mysteriously disappear from the dungeons. Arthur and the ‘Knights of the Round Table’ all knew it was Merlin, but they’d turned a blind eye, even going so far as to ensure that the guards on such nights were supplied with enough ale to fell a horse. After all, if they had been a threat and worth keeping in the dungeons, they would likely do something much more nefarious to the guards than have them pass out drunk.

Arthur knew Camelot’s system sucked, but despite his dislike of laying so much responsibility on Merlin’s shoulders (though not for the reason one might think) he knew that Merlin would keep everything in check.

Besides, all the dangerous sorcerers seemed to end up dead anyway.

Amazing.

Honestly though, the fact that no one else had managed to put it all together was the real miracle.

But all this boiled down to the fact that this was Arthur’s first true execution to oversee, and it was for his friend.

Servant.

Whatever.

As Arthur looked out of the amassed crowd in the courtyard, he couldn’t help but glance to the barred window set against the ground to his far right. He knew the window was too far and it was most likely just his imagination, but he liked to think he could see a flash of pale skin as a face looked hopefully out at the haphazard pile of wood in the centre of the yard.

It didn’t matter if Merlin felt hope now. He’d already demonstrated well enough that he didn’t know what to do with dread, anyway.

Not that it mattered. Arthur reckoned he was about to crush any hope Merlin had left.

Hey, maybe _this_ would be enough to force him to action.

Arthur could dream.

But the announcer was finished with his announcing, and now it was time for Arthur to speak. Forcing down a lump in his throat that he didn’t think he’d ever experienced before, Arthur took a step forward.

“Citizens of Camelot,” he began, thankful that his voice sounded just as strong as it usually did. “As I am sure you are aware, an accused sorcerer was apprehended four days ago. This man, who many of you know as Merlin - my former manservant…” here Arthur paused, and swallowed thickly. But he could see the expressions on many of their faces – the confusion, the worry, the curiosity, the rage – he knew that he needed to continue. And he knew he needed to go further than he had previously planned. So, with Merlin on his mind, he pushed past the worry and continued on. “...Is currently held in the dungeons below the castle. The law of Camelot is clear. Now, I understand the opinions many of you hold on this topic. I know that we have all suffered greatly at the hands of magic - however, I also know, along with many of you, that magic has also aided us in times of need.” Here the crowd gasped, but Arthur pressed on. “But the law is the law, and I am bound by it just as you are. Perhaps one day, we can work together to create a new system that better matches the way things in Camelot have changed. However, today cannot be that day. We cannot change something as set as the law on a whim, and at the time of the accused crime the law stated, as it still does, that all sorcerers must be executed. This leaves me with little choice. As the sun rises tomorrow morn, the sorcerer held in the castle dungeon shall be burnt at the stake.”

Arthur turned away from the (generally outraged) cries and (mostly drunken) jeers, striding back into the castle with apparent purpose. However, he merely hoped to avoid the conversation of his advisors and headed straight to his room, feeling rather discontented with the knowledge that George, ever the competent servant, would already have a fire blazing and his dinner laid out across his table.

He wouldn’t even have to ask.

It was strange, and not in a good way.

However, his efforts of avoidance were made entirely redundant when his door swung open, admitting a grinning, yet still hilariously bruised Gwaine, followed by Leon who was admonishing him for forgetting to knock. Percival trailed in behind them, swinging the door shut.

But before Arthur could ask why they thought there was a need to intrude the door opened again as Elyan held it for Gwen, who was carrying Gaius’ bag for him.

Once all six of them were seated and staring at him expectantly – with the exception of Gwaine and Percival, who had already started in on Arthur’s previously untouched pile of chicken legs – Arthur finally thought it safe to speak.

“What—“

“What did you just do?” Gaius asked, raising that famously stern eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Mate,” Gwaine slurred around his mouthful of greasy poultry, “You can’t just drop a brick like that. I saw Kay and Elwin talking about how Merlin’s got you enchanted.”

Gwen paled, but Arthur rolled his eyes. “Of course they were.”

“Sire, this is serious,” said Leon. “If they think you’re enchanted, they will try to discredit everything you say.”

“Which is why we had Geoffrey check the legality of the execution order,” Arthur said triumphantly.

“Because that was certainly part of your plan,” Gwen grumbled, exchanging an amused look with Gwaine while Gaius rolled his eyes.

Arthur shot them all a glare before continuing. “Enchanted or not, they can’t argue with me if the law is on my side.”

“Well—“

“And besides, you saw the way they reacted,” Arthur persisted, cutting off Gwaine’s dissent. “They were all surprised, yes, but for the majority that was a happy surprise. _Hopeful_. I’ve been among the people, I’ve seen the way most of them really do think about magic. Those old enough to remember the way things were miss it, and while those too young to know anything but fear live on stories of droughts and famines being overcome by magic stimulating the crops, how disease can be fought through magic being used to heal, how enemies can be repelled by _magic_ defending our walls. There is little that magic can’t do, or so I’m told and so I have seen, and the people know this. They fear it because the only magic they have seen in their lives is bad, because only those who risk outing themselves are insane with either grief or rage. We can stop this, and they know it.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“You truly have grown,” Gaius said quietly.

“Personally I think it’s all Merlin’s doing,” Gwaine quipped.

Afterwards, Arthur would swear that the second black eye had nothing to do with him.

Hard objects in his room seemed to make a habit of flying through the air, after all. Who knows? Maybe it was magic.

=o=

There’s something to be said about rising before the sun.

Arthur didn’t experience it often. Mainly because is main source of awakening was Merlin, who only managed to wake up when the sun hit his own face – something that didn’t tend to happen until the seventh bell even in summer, and then he always took his time collecting breakfast.

But Arthur did not even need to wait for George the morning of the execution, for his mind had kept him awake the entire night, not allowing him to rest for fear of everything that could possibly go wrong with the plan, every little thing that could result in Merlin’s death.

Not even Gaius’ admission that Merlin would never burn was enough to calm the dread, and when George came into his room before the sun had even begun to show on the horizon it was to find Arthur fully dressed, staring out of his window at the streets below.

Later, however, standing before the well-formed pyre with the execution order clutched in his hand like a lifeline, Arthur felt the dread fall away. Because as Merlin was led out of the castle towards his death, he looked up at Arthur and smiled.

Part of him wanted to curse, to run back up to the tallest tower of the castle and really, truly, _finally_ throw himself from the parapet because Merlin _still_ hadn’t caught on. For some _godforsaken-ridiculous-idiotic_ reason Merlin _still_ hadn’t opened the bloody door and _walked out of the dungeons_.

But despite the exasperation at his servant’s idiocy, Arthur felt his heart warm. Because that smile really held a thousand words, and Arthur knew that Merlin trusted him to make the right decision. The smile was more than mere acceptance, more than just an acknowledgement of the loyalty that coursed between them. In that moment, Arthur realised that he really did deserve the devotion Merlin bequeathed him, because he felt the same way.

And while none of the others may be able to understand that, while Gaius may claim that Arthur _couldn’t_ understand and Gwaine may think Merlin served his King blindly, they could both know that they would always look out for one another.

You’d think this was enough revelatory epiphany for one day, but in that moment Arthur was struck once again.

 _This_ was why Merlin hadn’t left the cell, despite the unlocked doors, complete lack of guards and not to mention the bloody _magic_. This is what he’d meant by what he’d told Gwen several days before.

Merlin knew that Arthur would have a plan to get him out, and he trusted him to do so. In Merlin’s mind, escaping would make him appear even more guilty than his confession had done, and would therefore make it even harder to release him.

After all, there was no way for him to know that escaping was _part_ of the plan.

There was only so much you can expect from Merlin, after all. Magic doesn’t enhance intelligence.

With this knowledge bolstering him, Arthur stood in front of his people once more, finally relaxing his grip on the parchment in order to unroll it.

“Sorcery is banned by the laws of Camelot,” he announced. “As you all know very well.”

Here, Arthur paused, gauging the reactions and responses of the crowd. Several people were muttering angrily amongst themselves, but most were too caught up in the tension of the moment to even flinch.

“Merlin of Ealdor, “Arthur continued, “You have been accused of using magic. How do you plead?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed slightly – not in anger, Arthur thought, but like he was carefully considering his options. Arthur knew that Merlin would realise he didn’t really have any – he’d already pleaded guilty at his trial several days before. This was a formality. So Arthur stared back, hoping that his expression was conveying his message. He’d split the original question into two this time, hoping to navigate through Merlin’s odd sense of morality and truth to get through to what he needed.

He felt a spark of hope as Merlin nodded almost imperceptibly, before speaking out just as surely as he had before. “Guilty.”

Arthur nodded, but when the guards moved forward to take Merlin to the stake, he raised a hand to stop them.

He almost laughed at the number of bemused expressions looking up at him.

“One more question, Merlin. You have also been accused of practising _sorcery_. How do you plead?”

This time, Merlin didn’t hesitate before opening his mouth to answer. But Arthur, knowing exactly what Merlin was like, decided to elaborate.

“I ask this,” he said quickly, cutting over Merlin’s started _‘Guil—_ ‘, “Because it has come to my attention that there are different forms of magic.” At this, he turned from Merlin to address the rest of the crowd. “Camelot outlaws sorcery. And yet, that is not the only form of magic that exists. We have been attacked by varying magical creatures - griffins, afancs, and goblins to name the least. None of which were sorcerers, and yet, they were magical. We have unicorns in the Darkling woods, which were declared as protected under the law; it is illegal to kill one, now. And yet, they have magic. Even when my father was King, the Great Dragon was held under the castle as a prisoner. He had magic, and yet, he was not a sorcerer. And he was not executed. Clearly, the possession of magic is not the only deciding factor as to whether or not a being is a sorcerer.”

A voice called from Arthur’s left— a young lord new to his position after the death of his father, believing himself to hold more respect than he had yet earned. “The situation is entirely different, you can’t make the comparison,” the young man claimed. “You don’t call a unicorn with no magic a horse— they are different in their own right. A sorcerer, on the other hand, is a human being with magic, there _is_ a distinction.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Merrick; did you just compare us all to horses?” The lord’s face burned bright red, and Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. “No matter. You do have a point, though - a unicorn is not a human being. We may differentiate sorcerers from sidhe, but what of the other humans who practise magic?

“Sorcery is learned, you see. Anyone can _choose_ to learn, and anyone can _choose_ to abstain. This is the only way that the laws against sorcery can be upheld, for if people did not have a choice, how could we punish them for it? So what about those who have no choice?”

By now, the crowd was mostly entranced by Arthur’s words. Not in over twenty years had they heard a King speak so openly about magic, and he could tell they could hardly believe what they were hearing.

Casing an eye over his closest friends, Arthur could see his knights with wide grins while Gaius and Gwen were both wiping a tear from their eyes. Merlin’s eyes, meanwhile, were as round as saucers, his mouth open just slightly in shock. Arthur smiled at him slightly before turning back.

“By his own admission, Merlin was born with his magic. He has honed it, yes, but he has not _learned_ it. He has admitted to practising magic, but by the laws of Camelot this is _not a crime_.” In his left hand, Arthur held up the unfurled execution order. “I hold in my hand the warrant for the death of the sorcerer held within Camelot’s dungeons last night. This page is binding, and has been checked for legality by the Court Historian. However, if it is found that there was _no_ sorcerer in the dungeons last night, then the warrant is void. So, Merlin.” Arthur turned back to his friend, who had now managed to somewhat regain his composure. “I ask again. You have been accused of practising sorcery. How do you plead?”

Merlin grinned widely. “Not Guilty.”

“Please explain yourself, Merlin.” Arthur returned the smile, albeit with more restraint.

“As you said before and as I told you the other day, I never learned magic. I am not a sorcerer. I was born with my powers, and that means that I am _not_ a sorcerer. I am warlock, a creature of magic— and Sire, if you’ll allow me, I will swear fealty to you before all of Camelot to assure you of my loyalty.”

The crowd in the courtyard was in uproar, but Arthur kept his eyes on Merlin. The self-proclaimed warlock’s eyes were shining with tears, yet his lips were pulled up in one of the brightest grins he thought he’d ever seen. And despite the buzzing noise of voices, the din of shuffling bodies and the cacophony of cheering knights, Arthur’s voice echoed clearly through the air.

“Merlin of Ealdor, I clear you of all charges. So long as you continue to abide by the laws and live as a loyal subject, you may remain in Camelot until the end of your days.”

=o=

“The only prisoner to ever actually _stay_ in Camelot’s dungeon is the only one who was never locked in. It would be you, wouldn’t it, Merlin?”

Merlin shuffled his feet sheepishly. “Well, you know Camelot has a problem with keeping people in its dungeon—“

“No thanks in part to you,” Arthur muttered, causing Gwen to snort and Gaius to roll his eyes. They all knew he’d helped Merlin along with that in what little ways he could.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Merlin continued, “I thought that, since I’d be fine anyway—“

“Because you were relying on me to save your sorry—“

“—because I knew I could get out of it myself, I thought there was no need for me to be contributing to Camelot’s abysmal track record—“

“Camelot’s record is fine, thank you very—“

“—and really, those guards are incompetent and sensitive enough as it is, they need to have their self esteem lifted every now and then—“

“You shouldn’t be coddling my guards—“

“—and besides…”

Merlin’s pause caused Arthur to frown. “Besides what?”

Merlin looked down, a slight pink tinge dusting his cheeks. “I knew you would help me, in the end.”

“And you didn’t think the unlocked door was part of the plan?” Arthur asked in exasperation. His earlier epiphany had been all but confirmed by Merlin’s words, but he still didn’t understand how Merlin could have missed the most obvious clue.

“Well…” Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, the pink on his cheeks becoming more pronounced.

“Well _what?_ ”

“To be honest, I thought the door was just broken. I mean, it _would_ explain why no one ever stays in the dungeons.”

Arthur found himself eying the window speculatively again.

“Well anyway…” Merlin was shuffling again, and Arthur looked up at him again in annoyance.

“ _What now?_ ”

“…thanks,” Merlin said, smiling softly.

Arthur ducked his head in equal parts shock and bashfulness, though he’d never admit it. “You’re welcome.”

“And now,” Gwaine piped up, grinning brightly, “You may kiss.”

Really, Arthur thought, they were doing his knight a favour.

You’d think that after all this time and all his experience in tavern brawls, Gwaine would have learned how to duck.

In all honestly, the flying plates (one of which was _definitely_ propelled by magic this time) could be considered a training exercise.

After all, it wouldn’t do to have the best knights in the land getting sloppy, despite the fact that they now had a powerful warlock watching over them.

Even though he is kind of an idiot.


End file.
